


Santa Claws Is Coming To Town

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at horror, Christmas, F/M, Horror, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout. I'm telling you why, Santa Claws is coming...for you.





	1. Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzraelGFG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelGFG/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sees you when you're sleeping... He knows when you're awake... He knows if you've been _bad_... So be good, for goodness sake.

He stood in front of the store window, watching the multitude of screens, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his charcoal grey hoodie. His black boots and jeans were a dark spot amid the colorful holiday decorations of the city. The only indication he was dressed “seasonally” was the white fur trim on the hood of his jacket, and the little fuzzy ball on the tip of the hood, making him look like a dark Santa Claus.  _ Santa Claws, maybe. Krampus, for sure. _

The tv screens were tuned to various channels, a few in particular kept his interest. Singer/songwriter/actor and well-known heartbreaker/cheater, Harrold “Harry” Hardyng was on a few screens, singing a song from his last album, “Go Love Yourself”, rumored to be about fellow singer and former girlfriend, Alayne Stone. The two had had a very nasty breakup , and Harry had gone public first. It wasn’t the only song said to be about her, his whole album was dedicated to “the one who hurt me”, and had been released nearly a year and a half ago. Most of them were disparaging, libelous, and had sent young Miss Stone into a depression only her family and a few friends were privy to. The rest of the world believed her to be hiding because it was all true.

Sandor growled at the handsome young man on the screens. No one hurt his little bird and got away with it. No one. As president of the Alayne Stone fan club, it was his duty to avenge her.


	2. Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a new friend

Harry waved goodbye to his date. “Ok, Woogle, send the cheap flowers and chocolates to my date, whatever her name was,” he said to his SmartHouse Assistant. He walked back inside, past his entourage playing video games in the fun room. Someone called out to him, but he wasn't sure who. “And lock down the house for the night, Woogle.”

 _“Ok, Master Harry, Lord of Music, Protector of The Realm’s Eardrums, Harvester of Young Buds and Sexiest Man Alive no matter what WesterPeople thinks!”_ He grinned. He would never tire of the programmable title in his e-assistant. His real life assistant, Pod, was forever forgetting to call him by his requested titles, though he did make a mean martini, and was currently trying to cater to Harry’s friends in the game room.

“Ok, Woogle, play some soft tunes to wank to.” He walked upstairs towards the bedroom as Alayne Stone’s soft voice began to sing over the house speakers. “Not that frigid bitch. Woogle, play Margaery Tyrell’s latest album, _Push Me Against The Wall._ And only play it in the bedroom.”

He threw himself onto the bed. His date had sucked him off, but he felt unsatisfied. He hadn't gone through with fucking her because her voice, her _laugh_ , was much too shrill, and she talked too much. Hells, the only way to get her to shut up was to stick something in her mouth. She had been halfway decent, he supposed. The sultry voice of Margaery tickled his ears. _Aaahhhh, straight to my groin._ He pushed his pants and boxers down past his hips. He could easily imagine her kneeling in front of him, her cherry red lips wrapped around his dick, though he hadn't been with her. _Yet,_ he thought. _Her no name boyfriend won't stand a chance once she meets me._ The fact that he had viciously badmouthed her only a month before, tearing into her character and costing her several gigs, had escaped his memory. He was midway through the next song and had a good rhythm going, when the song abruptly changed to Alayne Stone’s cover of _Santa Claus Is Coming To Town._

He groaned. “Woogle! Shut off the music!”

He had just gotten back into the right frame of mind when the song started up again. _“You better watch out, you better not cry. Better not pout, I'm telling you why--”_

“WOOGLE. SHUT OFF THE MUSIC.” Silence fell again. “Fucking ‘A’, man… Talk about a boner killer.” Harry lay back, putting his hands behind his head. Alayne had been pretty. More than pretty, in fact, but their manufactured romance to boost album sales was as far as it went. She had declined his offer to take things further, and only kissed him in public, if she absolutely had to. _Bitch. Glad I wrote all those songs about you._ Sure, it had been mostly exaggerations and outright lies, but she deserved it. She had said she didn't have a real boyfriend, yet hadn't wanted anything to do with him outside of work. His friend Lyn had suggested Alayne might be a lesbian, considering how close she was with Margaery Tyrell and actress Myranda Royce, two women known for being bisexual. The thought was hot, but only good for his spank bank.

_Hmmm… Myranda’s pretty. Not as pretty as Alayne, but not many are as pretty as her and Myranda puts out on the first date. Should see if I can get her to accompany me to the next movie premiere. It's next month? Month after? Should be enough time._

It suddenly struck him that the house was eerily quiet. Normally, he could hear his boys playing video games into the wee hours of the morning, but right now… nothing. A pin could drop on the tile and he was certain he would have heard it. _I'm sure it's nothing...but I should check._

He picked up the phone and dialed down to the security guard at the front gate. _“Yes?”_ an unfamiliar voice said.

“Where's Lothar? Who are you?”

_“Name’s Drogo. Lothar’s out sick. He asked me to cover for him. He said he emailed you about it.”_

“Oh, right.” That did sound familiar. His manager, Petyr Baelish, had probably told him about it.

_“What can I do for you, boss?”_

“Uh, just checking in. No one’s tried to get in?” He realized he sounded a bit panicky. “Or out? Has anyone left?”

_“No, sir. I've been watching the video feeds like a hawk. There was a dog sniffing around, and he managed to get onto the property, but that's about it. I can go catch him, if you'd like.”_

“No, that's fine. It'll probably head straight through to my neighbor's’ place.” He hung up before the man could answer.

Harry eased out of bed, pulled his boxers and pants back up, and zipped closed. Padding down to the game room, he heard the muffled sound of the tv on low caught his attention, flickering pink light illuminating the hallway. He was about to turn the corner when a hand on his shoulder spun him around.

“The gods damn you, Lyn! You scared the fuck out of me,” he exclaimed. Then he noticed the look of panic on Lyn’s face. “Wha--”

Lyn covered his mouth with his hand and dragged him away, shoving him into a closet.

“Damnit, Lyn. I’ve told you, I’m not into dudes. Didn’t think I was your type anyway--”

“Shut up!” Lyn hissed. “There's someone in the house!”

“Well, _yeah,”_ Harry said. “You, me, Little Walder, Big Walder, the Kett--”

“No!” Lyn said angrily. “Someone _else._ Huge dude, ugly as sin. You didn't hear it? He crashed into the game room, screaming at us. He grabbed Little Walder by his face and picked him up like he was _nothing.”_

“Seriously? What happened to him?”

“Dunno. Ran out of there. So did the others. Now the guy’s just wandering around the house. All the doors I tried are locked, the windows blocked one way or the other...”

“Did you try calling the police?” Harry asked, annoyed that someone was messing with his boys.

“No signal.”

“Wait, I called down to the security booth from the landline when I realized how quiet it was. Surely we can still call out from there.”

“You still have a landline?” Lyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t judge, it could be useful,” Harry spat out. “He probably assumes we only have cell phones and hasn’t cut the line. We just need to make our way back to my bedroom, and dial out. See? Easy.”

“Your bedroom is above us,” Lyn pointed out. “And the stairs are on the other side of the house. That freak could be anywhere.”

“What about the other guys?”

“Who knows. Like I said, we all scattered once the freak had Little Walder. Maybe they got away, maybe they didn’t. We have to worry about ourselves.” Lyn peeked out the door. “Looks like the coast is clear. Let’s go…”

They walked down the hallway, Lyn using extreme caution while Harry wasn’t completely convinced that this wasn’t all some elaborate prank. He had been mouthy towards his manager, Petyr Baelish, earlier in the week, and the man liked to take drastic measures with his revenge. There was also his “best friend”, Joffrey Baratheon, child star and currently trying to make a comeback as a serious actor, but kept getting caught in scandals with hookers and drugs. Joffrey had taken offense to an innocent comment Harry had made to TMZ, a joke really, about how Joffrey was truly his father’s son, when there had been rumors circulating that Joff was not actually a Baratheon after all, that he was a Lannister, son to his mother’s cousin or possibly her own twin brother.

 _Cersei Lannister-Baratheon, now that’s a MILF._ Harry had had the privilege of poinking his best friend’s mother a year ago at the Christmas party the studio had. She had the best tits, _and_ she had let him bareback her. The fact that she had had a baby three months ago that didn’t look at all like her husband had not escaped his notice, but she hadn’t asked for child support and the kid was named a Barathon on her birth certificate. _If she is mine, that makes three… no… four daughters now. Forgot about that Bella chick in the Riverlands. Gods, she was hot. Gave the best head, too._

Lyn stopped at the end of the hallway and peeked around the corner. “Ok...I don’t see--”

A giant hand grasped Lyn by the top of his head, wrenching him from where he stood and around the corner of the wall. Harry couldn’t even scream, he was so terrified, but he could see the shadows emerge as a lamp was knocked over, illuminating the two. A huge hulking figure, wearing a recognizable Santa hat, that dwarfed Lyn’s had him by the throat, having let go of his head. Harry could see Lyn struggling, could see his mouth screaming, but he heard no noise as the giant began to chuckle, and say in a distorted, low-rocks-in-a-blender voice, “Lyn Corbray, you’re on my list. Did you think Santa wouldn’t see long line of tormented little boys you left in your wake this year? I have just the present for you.” The giant began singing, if you could call it that. _“Dashing_ through the snow. On a horse read-y to _slay._ O’er the hills I go, _laughing_ all the way…” A dark cackle began, rising in volume as the giant lifted Lyn off the ground. Harry’s legs gave out, his eyes glued to the shadows on the wall. “Bells on bobtails _sting,_ making blood so bright. What _fun_ it is to laugh and sing, a _slaying song tonight.”_

Lyn’s body stopped flailing as he made one last gurgle. The giant flung the limp body against the wall. Lyn’s dead eyes, red and bloodshot, stared at Harry as the body slumped and tilted, falling to the floor. “Are you there, _Harry,”_ the rocky voice said. “You’ve been very _bad_ this year. You and all your friends. Don’t you know? Santa is watching. Santa is waiting. Santa...will make you pay.” The giant took a step forward, bells jingling and his shadow becoming smaller on the wall, yet it did nothing to reassure Harry. He kicked his feet against the hall rug, trying to find traction, and somehow managed to get up and run from the psycho.

**********

He ran into his manager, Petyr, and his assistant, Pod, who were hiding in the kitchen. Pod had grabbed a kitchen knife, while Petyr was desperately trying to call out on his cellphone. It kept beeping its failure as it tried to find a signal and couldn’t. The man was hardly ever rattled, but in the panic of his mind, Harry realized even Petyr was terrified of the situation. _Guess it wasn’t him pulling a prank on me,_ he thought idly.

“Will you quit that?!” Pod hissed at Petyr. “Your phone is going to give us away!”

“It’s our only chance!” Petyr hissed back. The older man looked like he had aged a few years.

“Sir. The signal is completely gone. Whoever it is that got Little Walder--”

“And Lyn,” Harry interjected.

Pod shook his head. “And Lyn… I think he’s using one of those signal jammers. There’s a cell tower a block over. The only reason you don’t have reception right now, it has to be a jammer,” he whispered.

“That’s not the _only--”_

“Shut up!” Pod hissed, covering Petyr’s mouth with his hand. “Someone’s coming…”

They heard frantic footsteps, and one of the Kettleblacks appeared in the doorway. Harry was about to call to him, when he went stiff, uttering a stifled sound, and the sharpened tip of an oversized candy cane burst through his chest. “Slay yells ring, are you listening? In the lane, blood is glistening,” _Santa’s_ voice came. “A beautiful sight. I’m happy tonight. Walking in a reddish wonderland.” The dark cackle started up again as the candy cane withdrew with a sickening slurp. “That’s what you get for Christmas, a _sharp prick,_ just like you and your brothers gave that poor girl this past summer. Drunk is not consent, and you should have known that. She’s still unable to go out in public, just so you know.”

Harry had just barely held it together earlier, but as the Kettleblack, Osney, he thought, fell to the ground in a dead heap, he felt a warm patch develop in the crotch of his trousers and the scent of urine filled the air. Osfryd jumped into view, yelling what Harry could only assume was a war cry, but was stabbed in midair, his own body weight pushing him onto the peppermint candy stake as his feet hit the ground again. Santa held him by the shoulder and pulled out the candy stake. _He’s not even trying very hard to hold him up,_ Harry thought, both marveling and horrified at the man’s strength. He vaguely felt Pod tugging on his shirt, pulling him along while Osmund appeared and distracted Santa, only to find the sharp candy stick embedded into his eye.


	3. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one can escape.

“Where’s Joffrey?” Pod asked him, once they had found another shelter in the dining room. They had had to double back towards the kitchen, but the psychotic Santa was nowhere to be seen. The room was rarely used, and the expensive mahogany table actually had a decent table cover over it to protect the wood. The chairs had been stacked along the wall, so it was easy enough to crawl under the table.

“Joff was here?” First he had heard about it.

“He came in about twenty minutes before Alys left. He called out to you when you were walking back to your room,” Pod said, staring at him.

“Alys?” Who in the hells was that?

Pod raised his thick eyebrows. “Your date? The one you took out this evening?”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t notice him. No, I haven’t seen him. I was too busy running for my life. This  _ Santa _ seems to think we all deserve to die.”

“What?” Baelish said. “Why? We’ve done nothing wrong!”

Pod scoffed. “How many scandals have you had to cover up for Harry and his friends? Yourself included, Mr. Baelish.”

Baelish glared at him. “You’re very outspoken tonight, Podrick. You can consider yourself fired.”

“I quit as soon as I saw this guy killing Little Walder. Squashed his head like a grape as he sang this demented version of Silent Night. Said he had tormented his last, and that his victims would soon be compensated for their blood that was spilled by him.” Pod shook his head. “I knew something was up with him, but  _ you _ kept it under wraps. I should have done something…”

“Like what?” Baelish sneered. “Turned them in to the police? Do you know how badly that would have reflected on Harry?”

“Fuck that!” Pod exclaimed. “If what  _ Santa _ says is true, then they deserved to be turned in, and Harry is not exactly the best person to walk the face of the earth! He and Joffrey both burn bridges faster than  _ you _ can set them up. And his daughters...he isn’t the one that makes sure they’re taken care of, I am! I go visit them, take them presents that I tell them is from their father, but their mothers and I both know that Harry couldn’t care less about them.” He turned to Harry. “Do you even remember their names?”

“Uh...well…” Footsteps running towards had them quieting down, and then the tablecloth was thrown up as Joffrey clambered underneath it. Pod had the sense of mind to pull it back down.

“Wha-- How did you get over here?” Joff asked them.

“Ran. Away from that mad Santa,” Pod replied, churlishly in Harry’s opinion. “Who seems to be going after all of us for grievances against humanity.”

“Is that what he wants? Seems a bit excessive to be  _ killing _ everyone.”

“You clearly have been protected from the hate mail you boys receive,” Baelish snapped. “I can think of more than a dozen people who could be behind this, and that’s just off the top of my head. All of you have done some things worth getting locked up over, and now you’re going to die for it. Mazel tov.”

“Gay,” Joffrey said. “So fucking gay. Alright, so if we’re so awful, why do you keep our antics hushed up? I get that money’s a thing for you, you being a stinkin’ Jew and all, but--”

A baritone voice cut through the air. “I'm dreaming of a red axe-mas… Just draw my knife right through your heart… Where sidewalks glistens, from blood pumps like a-piston… To hear, your screams in the dar~k…”

The tablecloth wasn’t completely opaque, and there was enough light from the hallway that they would have seen someone come in as they had seen Joffrey. “Oh, gods…” Pod whispered. “He was in here the entire time…”

The tablecloth was whipped off the table, and a strand of Christmas lights fell over Joffrey’s head. He was pulled out. “Ah, Joffrey Baratheon. You’ve been very naughty with those strippers and prostitutes. Don’t you know they’re just trying to earn money to feed themselves and their families? They can’t work if you stick them full of holes,” Santa said, wrapping the lights around Joffrey quickly, binding him. “I’ve always wanted to hang a star.” Another strand of lights, braided into a rope, went round Joffrey’s neck. Santa didn’t have any trouble throwing the light rope over the beam above him, and hoisted Joffrey up, watching him kick and flail uselessly as he slowly suffocated. The giant turned back to the table and the people underneath it.

“Go…” Pod whispered to him. “Run. I’ll hold him off, I can buy you a few moments.”

Harry didn’t ask why, though he was curious. If Pod wanted to give up his own life for Harry, who was he to judge? Petyr was already gone, and Harry took off to the door on the far side. He looked back, and saw Pod manage to punch Santa in the jaw, before being picked up in a choke hold, held very close as Santa examined him and was then thrown out the window.

**********

Harry managed to get to his bedroom without further interaction with the giant. He dialled the emergency line with shaking fingers.  _ “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” _ a girl asked.

“There’s a guy in my house, he’s killing everyone!” Harry hissed into the phone. “Please send the cops, send the army, send everyone!”

He gave her the address.  _ “Try to get outside if you can,” _ she advised him.  _ “The police will be there shortly, but you don’t want to be found by him in the meantime.” _

“Thanks,” he snarled at her and hung up the phone. “Bitch.” After a moment’s thought, he picked it up again to dial the security booth, only to find the line dead. “Shit…”

He looked out the window. It had been boarded up from the outside, something he should have noticed earlier, but hadn’t.  _ How can I get outside? Lyn said the doors were locked as well… _ Suddenly, he remembered the attic crawl space. There was a hatch opening just down the hall from his room, and the crawl space had another opening on the opposite side of the house, from when they had a bat problem. The workman had suggested putting a small door over the hole, in case the bats came back and they needed to get in there again. The first floor extended past the second floor at that point, so he would be able to jump down and then jump the rest of the way to the ground.  _ Ha! Beat that, psycho Santa! _

A quick glance out the door, and Harry made his way as quietly as possible to the door hatch. His heart nearly stopped when the metal squeaked horribly, but nothing jumped out at him, and soon he was up in the attic. He didn’t want to close the door, as it was the only light available, but he also didn’t want the giant to notice it, so he reluctantly pulled it back up. The crawl space was pitch black, but he more or less knew where the little door was. The air was musty, and he ran into more than a few spiderwebs. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from screaming when he felt the little fuckers crawl up his pant legs and also his sleeves. He could hear singing from below, through the vents that helped cool the house in the summer. They were closed for winter, but sound still carried. 

_ “Said the little bird to the big Hound dog, do you hear what I hear? Ringing through the sky, big Hound dog, do you hear what I hear? A scream, a scream, high above the trees, let that Harry drown in the sea, let that Harry drown in the sea…” _

Harry shuddered, and kept crawling towards the little door. He was mostly sure he would fit through it. He grit his teeth when he heard the scurrying sound of mice.  _ Or rats… Just keep moving forward… _ One jumped in his head and ran down his back and his leg.  _ Don't scream… don't scream. You scream and he will find you. You scream and you will die… _

He nearly cried for joy when his fingers touched the wall of the crawl space. Never mind that he cut it on an exposed nail. Or that he was feeling faint from all the excitement. Or even that he stunk of piss. Possibly a little bit of shit, too. None of that mattered. He was going to  _ live. _

The door swung open with a loud creak, but he didn't hear the singing coming any closer. Easing his head, then his shoulders through, he crawled out onto the roof as quietly and carefully as he could. He peeked into a window that showed the giant walking down the hallway,  _ away _ from Harry. The giant turned for a moment, as if listening for something, and Harry saw his face…  _ A mask...that has to be a mask, but it looks so real… _ The giant had a long muzzle, fur covering his face, and big black ears sticking up from the top of his head.  _ A dog...he’s  _ _ literally _ _ a dog! _ Shuddering, he scooted across the roof, mentally calculating how long it would take the dog giant to get from the upstairs hallway to the door just below. Not long, maybe three minutes, if he doesn’t stop. He peered over the edge of the roof.  _ That’s really high… _ He tried to remember if there was a point that was closer to the ground, but he was running out of time.  _ It’s here or risk being caught. Shit...this is going to hurt… _

Harry jumped, but closed his eyes at the last second and landed hard on his ankle. He muffled his scream, burying his face in the grass. The lawn was damp, most likely from the sprinklers, and he was pretty sure he had inhaled a bug as he tried to move, his ankle in considerable pain and already beginning to swell. He crawled, on his elbows, using his good leg to help push him along.  _ The security booth, I just have to make it to the security booth… Drojen… Dragnet… Drake? What the hell was that guy’s name...whatever it was, he’ll be able to help me. I just have to make it over there. _

He had the eeriest feeling that he was being watched, but no attack came. The shirt he wore was soaked through by the time he reached the driveway. The gravel bit into his exposed arms, tore at his shirt, as he dragged himself down the driveway. Light flickered from the booth, the sounds of some late night tv show could be heard over small speakers through the open door.

“Help…” Harry uttered. The sound barely carried.  _ “Help,” _ he said more loudly. A shuffling from inside the booth.  _ Oh thank the gods… _

A large foot stepped out of the booth, followed by another. Harry’s eyes traveled upward. Black combat pants, a gun holster on the hip, said gun in the opposite hand, black gloves, long sleeve black t-shirt, black combat vest, and a mask. A long muzzle, but this face was feline, not canine.  _ A panther? _

“Been expecting you, chief,” a smooth, slightly distorted voice said. “I’m to detain you until the Hound gets here.”

“And I get to play with you until that moment,” another voice, also distorted, said. Harry shrank back as he turned his head and saw a smaller figure, dressed in black like the panther man, but her mask was a wolf. She leapt on top of him, grabbing his shoulder to hold him down and brandishing a knife that she scraped along his earlobe. 

“Wolfbitch,” the panther said, “Thought you were patrolling.” He sounded bored to Harry’s ears.

“This is the last one. The assistant has been taken care of.”  _ Pod… _ Harry thought. “I made sure of it. And Baelish… well…” He could hear her smiling through the mask, the glee in her voice was apparent. “Hound’s having some fun with him. Carefully, of course. He’s the secondary star in this little production of ours.” She sat on Harry’s back and bent down to whisper to him, “Want to know what’s going on?” 

He nodded, trying to ignore the soft breasts that pressed into his back.  _ She’s going to kill me, _ he reminded himself, but his body had a hard time differentiating between “female” and “killer that happens to be female.”

She laughed. “Ohhhh, let me guess. You’re a little turned on right now, aren’t you? Bit of a pervert, aren’t you? Wanting to fuck when I’ve got you dead to rights. You’ll fuck anything with tits, or at least try to. Well, dream about my cunt all you want, you’re never going to get it. That Podrick guy, I would have let have a go at me, but alas, he is now gone. Too bad. He was cute; and a fighter to the end. I admired that.” She ran the knife’s edge across the back of his neck, the blade slicing his skin lightly. “Well,  _ Harry, _ you’ve been a very bad boy this year. Naughty, naughty! The Hound, he’s here on behalf of Alayne Stone, a woman whose career you tanked because she wouldn’t sleep with you. Panther here,” she pointed up to the man watching them, “He’s here on behalf of Margaery Tyrell. And me, I’m here for every unnamed woman you’ve fucked over. Singer/songwriter? Give me a break. You stole nearly all of your songs from unknown artists, one of which is very dear to me. Now, I’m going to need you to be very, very quiet. If you make any noise, I will just start stabbing you to make you  _ scream.” _ He shuddered, fearing this woman on his back, yet still felt an insane attraction to her.

The knife slid under the hem of his shirt at the neck, and he heard a ripping sound. The cold air felt almost refreshing on his skin, until the pain ripped through him. She ran the tip of the blade along his back, caressing him in an almost lover-like way. The only difference was most lovers didn’t create designs in blood as she was doing. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.

“What are you doing?” Panther asked.

“Creating a design. Do you like it?”

The man peered closer. “Not bad. Hound’s going to be pissed.”

Harry felt her shrug. “Maybe. I don’t think it will make much of a difference. Can you patch up his ankle while I’m doing this? He’s going to need to be mobile pretty soon.”

“Yeah, sure. Not a problem.”

Harry continued to stay silent, though the pain in his back, and then his ankle became unbearable. His face was wet from both tears and blood, as he bit his lips so hard, he pierced the skin.

“You done, Wolfbitch?” Harry went cold in terror.  _ Hound. It’s the Hound. The one who hunted and killed everyone. _

“Almost, Hound. You got everything you needed?”

“Ankle’s done. He can run, more or less. Ready?” Panther asked.

“Yeah. Get him up, then get out of the way when you see me coming.” Hound stalked off, leaving Panther and Wolfbitch to gleefully get him to his feet.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Wolfbitch purred in his ear as they guided him back to the lawn and far from the front gate. “Should reincarnation be a real thing, let me give you some advice for your next life. Don’t be a little bitch to people. Or else this will just end up happening again.”

Then, they were gone, running off to only the gods knew where. Harry turned around, looking for the Hound. Bright lights blinded him, and he lifted his hands to block it, only to hear the revving of his favorite car. Then the singing began, barely audible over the car’s engine. 

“Hark, the little red bird sings, glory to the newborn queen! Peace on earth and mercy mild, Gods and sinners reconciled. Joyful, all ye cunts remark, join the triumph of the Starks. With the angelic host proclaim: ‘Maiden born, of auburn hair.’ Hark! The herald angels sing, glory to the newborn queen!”

The car bolted forward, and Harry turned, running for his life as best he could, crying out from the pain in his ankle, on his back and his chest. He dodged out of the way as his car narrowly missed hitting him, but the Hound was a far better driver than he, throwing the car into neutral and sliding it along the grass as it turned, reaiming to Harry. He scrambled to get to his feet, but the car did not miss on the second go. Harry was lifted up and it felt like his spirit was separated from his body. He was bent over the hood of the car as it continued to accelerate. He knew his feet were being dragged across the driveway, the flesh tearing away due to the friction, most likely leaving a trail of blood behind him and that he was in excruciating pain from it, from the broken ribs he probably now had, and that he was going to die in a few short minutes, if not seconds, but he couldn’t feel it. It was too surreal, and therefore was not happening to him. He almost welcomed the construction materials he was heading into, opening his arms in greeting as he was slammed into the pipes and pierced on multiple points of his body.

His senses returned and the pain was more than he ever thought possible. He couldn’t move as he heard the car door open and the giant, the Hound, got out of the car. He heard the footsteps as the man came up to his side and watched him die. “Please…” Harry said. “Mercy…”

“Fuck off, you little shitstain,” the Hound whispered. “You do not deserve it.” Harry’s eyes went skyward, praying for it to end, but his final breath wasn’t expelled until twenty minutes later.

**********

Bronn and Arya helped him set the scene, placing Petyr Baelish in the car, and making it look like he had been the one driving and was killed by a pipe through his skull instead of the awl Sandor had used.

“Not a word of this to Sansa, Margaery or Brienne, got it?” Sandor said, once they had finished “cleaning” up the scene and removing evidence of their crimes. 

“No shit,” Arya said, flipping him off as she got on her motorcycle and drove off.

“It’ll be fine,” Bronn assured him. “Even if they do find out, they won’t tell on us. Have a little faith, brother.” He clapped Sandor on the back and the men parted ways.


	4. Last Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hound stalks new prey

The back door of the small house Alayne Stone called home swung open silently and Sandor stepped into the kitchen. It was nowhere near as grand as Hardyng’s place, and the only other person who lived there was her personal guard, an easy enough mark to get past. The air was filled with the scent of strawberries and lemons. She had been baking again. 

He could hear a soft humming from the living room.  _ She must be feeling better, _ he thought. He silently snuck up behind her, looming over the girl. Her dark red locks looked almost brown in the low light. He reached out a hand, but merely ghosted over them, not daring to touch such perfection with the blood of her enemies still on his fingers. 

“Have a good night out with your friends?” she asked suddenly, turning around. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, so she wouldn't see the red stains. 

“Yeah. It was satisfying,” he said. She leaned up, standing on her tiptoes and placing her hands on his chest, to kiss him softly. “Arya says she’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” The she-wolf had played her role well, even hacking the landline so that Harry had thought he was calling for help, but it had been her all along. Bronn had done well, too, posing as the substitute security guard named “Drogo”, and making sure no one entered the premises while they worked.

“I’ll make some tuna casserole for lunch then. Go shower, Sandor love. Mom made macaroons and brought us extras. And dinner should be here soon. I ordered Pentoshi takeout.”

She gave him a gentle push towards the bathroom. The bright lights in there showed what Sandor wanted to keep hidden from his little bird. His jacket had dried blood on it, there were bits of flesh stuck in his hair, and he had the beginning of a bruise on his jaw where the punk had gotten a lucky shot.  _ He wasn’t a bad kid, _ Sandor thought, which was why he had let him go.  _ Just works for bad people. Worked, rather. _ He made a mental note to see about hiring the kid for Mr. Stark, now that he was unemployed due to his boss’s timely demise. Arya made sure Podrick wouldn’t squeal on them. From the beginning, they had planned to spare him, but it had been a challenge to separate him from the others. Bronn had offered to get him out of the house before shit went down, but it hadn’t worked out.

Once he was clean, and had stashed the hooded jacket away to clean when the little bird was out, he made his way back to the kitchen, just in time for the doorbell to ring. He tipped the delivery driver and closed the door on the bored, young girl. 

She was sitting in the living room, watching an old Christmas special, dressed in thin sweatpants and one of his long-sleeved flannel shirts. The coffee table had been cleared off to make room for their dinner. It was a far cry from glitzy lifestyle most people imagined Alayne Stone to live. Well, Alayne Stone  _ did _ have a place like what everyone believed, but it was just for show. Just like Alayne was. The woman in front of him was Sansa, his little bird, and she had moved in with him when she went into hiding from the public. Her parents hadn’t liked it, but they trusted him with her safety. She had also trusted him with her heart long before she had ever met Hardyng, and hated that she couldn’t tell the world that she loved Sandor.

She looked up at him in question. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. You just look so…”

She giggled. “So…?”

“So beautiful, little bird.” She heard it from so many people, but only  _ he _ made her face light up like that. 

She reached up to take some of the bags from him, then pulled him down to sit next to her. She settled into his side, calm and peaceful, the depression she had spiraled into seemed to have finally lifted, the one caused when Hardyng’s awful album was released, though she wasn't quite back to one-hundred percent. 

“You didn't have to, you know,” she said quietly. 

“Didn't have to what?”

“Do anything to Harrold.” She sighed. “You reeked of blood, Sandor. I know the scent and I know you've wanted to draw his since the day we found out about his album.”

“You going to tell on me?” he asked, playing with a loose lock of her hair. He had become her bodyguard three years ago, and then the president of her fan club and the designated social media account holder for her less than a month into working for her. He had become her friend and then two years ago, had become her secret boyfriend.

She smiled and shook her head. “Of course not. I may not condone it, but Harrold was really very awful, wasn’t he? I don't want you to leave me either. This world is an awful place, and having you by my side makes it a little less awful. Besides, I like the idea that you defended my honor, even if I’m not terribly excited about the how.”

“Kooky little bird,” he said and kissed the top of her head. 


End file.
